End of Line
by newvagabond
Summary: Arcee has been captured. The two-wheeler is strong. The two-wheeler is brave. Starscream hates her with all his spark. This is not meant to be a slash fic, but warning for brief torture and molestation.


**A/N:** Arcee has been captured. The two-wheeler is strong. The two-wheeler is brave. Starscream hates her with all his spark. **This is not meant to be a slash fic, but warning for brief torture and molestation.**

Their interactions in Partners brought up some strange ideas in my head. Not really sure how else to describe this fic. Also worth mentioning I guess that it's rare that molestation is ever played in a strictly non-slash way, and seeing as these robots are at war, this seemed like something that would happen in the event of a capture, particularly after knowing what went on between them in Partners.

* * *

Shoulder connectors strained, servos held high above her head. The neon energy of the cuffs burned into her wrists, made dermal metal raw and gray. Her pedes could barely lay flat on the floor. Not that she would be able to stand for more than a second anyway.

An Autobot known for her speed and agility. Tch. She felt so _stupid._

Arcee closed her optics. They wanted to cycle wide, to take in as much light as possible. But that would only use up fuel she scarcely had. When was the last time she refueled? She tried to remember. Two cycles ago, three? Her chronometer was probably broken. Soundwave had done a good job knocking things loose.

Think. When? It was at night. She remembered that. Bumblebee had helped Ratchet prepare the cubes. Bulkhead had nearly dropped his. Optimus was already in recharge, having gone cycles too long without rest. It took five kliks of hushed arguing by the console for Ratchet to get the Prime to comply, and Arcee didn't miss the secret smiles they shared.

Jack knew she'd been captured by now. She thanked Primus he hadn't been on patrol with her that day.

Arcee tugged at her cuffs in frustration. She needed to focus. She needed to get out of here. Decepticons didn't keep captives for very long. It wouldn't be long before they were ready to hack her. And when that was done, well. So was she.

The console in the corner of the dark room lit up. A series of beeps sounded and the door slid aside. She could barely see, the light was blinding and her optics were low on charge. But she would never forget that silhouette. The high slant of wings, shoulder armor raised around helm like a cobra, lithe and sharp.

Red optics penetrated the darkness as the door shut. As Starscream stepped forward, light strips activated above.

Arcee looked right at him, silent and unafraid.

A chuckle sounded from the air commander's vocalizer, familiar and amused. "Be a good 'bot now," he all but crooned, heels turning as he circled her slowly.

She kept her vocalizer geared tight.

"Hmm," Starscream vocalized, stopping to her side. His optics scanned her miniscule frame. Mesh wounds, dried energon, dented plating and a few exposed cables. She certainly hadn't gone quietly.

"Knock Out tells me you still refuse energon."

Arcee stared. Starscream smiled. This was their pattern. Repeating, challenging, defying. Locked stares and straining firewalls. Even the cycle earlier with Soundwave's cables constricting her, plating crumpling under the pressure, she had been all glares and no talk.

The two-wheeler is strong. The two-wheeler is brave. Starscream hated her with all his spark.

"They're looking for you."

Spiraling blue optics narrowed. Starscream began circling her again, turning swiftly on a heel. When he was behind her, Arcee shifted, sensors booting up strong in an effort to determine proximity.

Her sensornet lit her system with warnings when a taloned servo settled against silver ventral armor. Every plate shifted tight into her frame. Every sensor gave an inward burr of static, fizzling out in angry protest at her pede tips and dorsal wings.

Claws shifted, scraping ever so slightly against metal, moving downward to femoral plates. Scarred and dented, flaking with faded azure fuel. The wound was no longer leaking, but hung open on her metal thigh, microplates lacking the proper nutrients to regenerate and heal. It was going to scar. Ratchet might be able to provide a mesh covering but they didn't have the tools to completely weld it together again.

Optics shuttered closed. A scar would mean she survived. She imagined Ratchet yelling at her for not changing the gauze.

That fantasy held strong until the very moment a sharp claw tip dug into the fissure. Her entire frame jerked. Air burst from her vents as she willed her vocalizer to remain silent through the pain. Starscream held her in place with his other servo, claws tight around her waist, denta bared in a half-grin, energy field radiating a cocktail of amusement and utter disgust at the Autobot in his grip.

When the pain stopped, she was loose, ventilations slow and measured. A talon scraped over the gash and Arcee's optics remained staring ahead, waiting for the next wave.

"Who is it you fight for, Autobot? Your team?"

Starscream's servos smoothed forward mere inches around her middle. The Autobot's optics cycled in confusion. The pain, she expected. The pain, she could handle. But this was...

"Your human?" he continued, vocals low. "No..." His servo stopped over her pelvic array, claws tight.

"I know. _Cliffjumper_."

Everything tensed and strained. Her field snapped and flared as she tried to escape the molestation. The Decepticon chuckled low, scraping the tips of his tapered digits under her sensitive plating, sending crawls of static down her hanging legs. Pedes moved, barely gaining purchase on the floor as she twisted her frame and scores of swear codes fired off in her processor.

The aerial tightened his grip and lowered, coiling over her. His helm came down, mouthplate to audial.

"Were you bonded?" he asked almost subvocally, barely spoken. Hands lowered still to stroke over thigh plating.

Arcee turned her frame despite how weak she felt, and for the first time since her capture she uttered a cry. Pain, frustration, loss, grief, hate.

Starscream made a moue of disgust against her helm. He gave a final harsh, denting compression before releasing her.

Pedes tapped against hard floor as he looped back to her front. He used a claw to hook under her jaw and lift that tired hanging helm. When she cut her optics away he squeezed and jerked her face towards his.

Not even the slightest trace of a winning smirk was present upon his plate. Arcee didn't pretend to know what he was thinking.

With a revolted snarl the Decepticon let go and turned for the exit. A wave of his servo opened the door.

"Lord Megatron will return within the cycle," he said. "Do not expect him to be as forgiving of silence."

When the door whirred and locked behind him, Arcee was once again left in a sheet of darkness, her presence nothing but two glowing blue optics. She only then noticed her spark had been racing.

She told herself to recharge. Recharge like tomorrow wasn't her last day. Recharge like she had a tough team mission in the morning. Recharge like she had to be online early to take Jack to school.

_Who is it you fight for, Autobot? _

With a shaking exvent, she powered her optics down to let the darkness take her.


End file.
